The Whole World In Exile
by Operamuse
Summary: In a world where the personifications of countries are treated with contempt and suspicion by their own citizens, Ivan has learned to live in anonymity and solitude. He has experienced the cruelty of the world firsthand but might not have to endure it alone. Fem!AmericaxRussia.
1. Chapter 1

Ch 1 New Orleans Part 1

Her hazy memories between flashes of consciousness were of bubbles in the water; the life escaping from her as she stared in the dim and dark gloom. Time had no meaning and she wondered if she was just watching eternity pass by or frozen in hell. Her limbs felt so heavy, the fight's gone from her and all she wants to do is close her eyes and get sucked down into the swamp. Forever cradled in the mud and muck.

But some mercies aren't meant to be granted to her kind. A fish net catches her up along with the other unfortunate creatures meant to be scaled and filleted. The last sensation before everything goes dark once more, is that of being rocked gently against the water and a sudden blinding light from above.

**XX**

"Fresh catch of the day," a man called in a thick Cajun accent as the net was hauled in by the men on deck of the fishing boat.

They grunted as their muscles strained and the ropes were pulled taut until the net filled with fish was pulled on the deck.

"Let's take her back in to port," the captain called as Ivan wiped his brow with the back of his rough gloved hand. He towered over the other men and his body was large, muscle with a layer of fat that he had never been able to shed.

The Russian watched the other men with cool detachment. This was his latest job, a means to an end until the next pay off. Nothing more.

His stared at the writhing fish suffocating in the net as the boat moved sluggishly down the river. He swore he must not have slept for days if he thought he had just seen something vaguely human in the slimy, wriggling mess.

He stepped closer and definitely saw it again, a streak of hair here, a hand. The sight had him reaching into his back pocket and grabbing his knife. He barely heard the sound of the other fishermen yelling at him as he fell to his knees and cut through the hard wet cords until they sprang free under the sharp blade and crushing strength in his arms.

He reached into the slippery mess and found a shoulder, grabbing beneath the arm pits until he'd dragged the woman out. Her lips were blue, mud, grime and vegetation clung to her clammy cold skin. Long blonde hair was tangled around her in a complete wet mess with all manner of debris threaded among the tresses. She looked like she'd been dead for weeks.

"Mary mother of god," one of the men murmured crossing himself as they stared at the woman while Ivan looked her over methodically and felt her pulse point in her throat.

Faint, but it was there. He turned her on her side and thumped her hard on the back.

"жить," he bit out as he gave her back another hard smack as she jerked forward. The men watched in horror, only one brave soul stepping forward with the intention of reasoning with him to stop.

One more hard hit and she was coughing hard, clawing at the wooden deck. He watched her with sharp eyes as she vomited hard. Her body was shaking and water dripping off of her as mud, blood, and any other number of things fell from her lips until she was spent.

She tried to get up on shaking arms, too exhausted to do much. Her lungs burned as she finally gulped down the air that she had been denied for weeks. Her blue eyes blinked against the too bright light.

Everyone seems to be in motion. Some of the men fearfully stepping back from the woman who looks like a ghoul, others rushing off to find supplies. But Ivan is very still. He watches her and feels something fall into place. Recognition. They are the same.

Amelia had not adjusted to the light when strong arms scooped her up and carried her while she weakly tried to push him off. She could barely think, instinctively pushing against anything she came in contact with, feeling as vulnerable as a newborn.

Her captor had a large nose, a silvery white beard, hair damp with perspiration and violet eyes that were not looking at her. She would have declared that he had an interesting face if she hadn't been trying to desperately remove herself from his hold.

Before Ivan could disappear with her below the deck one of the men spoke up hesitantly.

"Wh-what are you going to do with her?"

"That is my business," he said in a cold voice as he looked back at them with flat violet eyes. "Take the money out of my pay for the net."

Without another word he turned and headed down as the woman in his arms tried to scream from her raw throat.

**XX**

She was crying as they stepped into his small quarters. He paid her no attention. Her tears would dry he thought, the excitement within him growing as he threw open the door to his room.

The men of the boat avoided him and so he was privileged with his own space, humble though it was. That was good. If they were interrupted it would displease him greatly.

He set her on the edge of his cot and indifferently pulled on her wet clothes as she tried in vain to keep the ruined clinging fabric on.

"Bastard!" she bit out as the layers were stripped away until she was left cold and naked, shivering violently. Oh god in heaven why didn't you let me die? Why save me only to have me be violated more than I already am?

She was interrupted from her vocal thoughts by the weight of a rough blanket being laid on her shoulders.

Indigo and violet gazed back at one another. He understood fear and the need for self-preservation but at the moment there was no need. He did not save her only to harm her.

"Stay," he told her raising an eyebrow as if to tell her not to test him. She wrapped the blanket close to her and nodded a little. What choice did she have? She wouldn't get far when her legs were shaking.

Satisfied with her answer he stepped out, his heavy boots thumping as he left her alone to curl up against the bed. She felt the boat shift, wood creaking, the faint sound of men's voices.

She wanted her mama and her people. Her real people. The ones who'd been driven away by the white settlers. Those that had begged Amelia to stay and fight for them. Fighting all alone until none of them knew her or remembered her among their tribes.

She'd been surrounded by people her whole life and always welcome. Even if her skin was as brown as a beechnut and those around her couldn't decide if she was white or Mulatto, her dazzling smile, blonde hair and eyes usually charmed even the most cynical. Until it all came crashing down.

She woke from her thoughts when the large man stepped back in. Damn but he was tall she thought. He was broad, pale, with dark clothes. It made him look even more imposing and harsh.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and she noticed for the first time the steaming mug he held.

"Are you strong enough to hold this?" he inquired in slow measured words. She had fought to keep her wet things on but it was more like a kitten batting away a hand then a threat to him.

"Yes," she said holding out both of her hands as she accepted the drink, the strong smell of coffee drifting up to her.

She just held it for a long while, letting it warm her fingers slowly, the first part of her that felt warm as he continued to watch her.

"What's that matter? Never seen a woman before?" she snapped as his mouth quirked in a brief smile.

"None that have come back from a cold watery grave," he said tilting his head as if trying to pull her secrets out just by looking at her.

She stared at him without flinching. She had fire and it was returning to her already. Her wide eyes were wary but not afraid as they drank him in just as curiously.

"I was swimming," she said, the lie sounding as false to her as it must have to him. "I slipped on a rock and hit my head."

"Думаю, нет," he said triumphantly, his smile pleasant and not at all like the harsh way his eyes gleamed as he reached forward and cupped her neck with his fingers.

He ran his thumb over the bruising, clearly in the pattern of someone who had put their hands around her neck to strangle her. In the struggle to unclothe her he had already seen more angry black and blue hands imprinted on her skin where someone had restrained her.

She swallowed thickly, her pulse jumping erratically under his thumb as it stroked her damp flesh.

"Before our acquaintance is over you will tell me your story," he promised as she grabbed his hand suddenly and swatted him off.

"Keep your damn hands off of me," she bit out, her fingers white knuckled around the mug. "Or I swear to god when I'm nice and recovered I'll kill you."

He barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

"We will be docking in New Orleans by dawn," he said watching the many emotions flickering over her face.

She pulled the mug to her chest and blew on the surface before sipping it. Warmth flooded her and she sighed as her eyes closed.

"Is there anyone looking for you?" he inquired as he stood up to do something with himself. He was tired and would most likely not be having the luxury of sleeping on the semi-comfortable bed tonight.

"No. No one," she said staring hard at the wall. She was safe for now at least. But she had nothing. No money, friends, or even the name she'd used before. All she had were the clothes on her back and charity of people like this man.

She watched as he pulled her soaking clothes up and started to wring them out before draping them across the back of a small broken chair.

"My name's Amelia," she said straightening her back as her fear began to flee.

"Pretty name Дорогая моя," he mused an almost childlike smile on his face, his violet eyes faraway. "I did not know mermaids had names."

"Yeah well it's usually polite in most societies to exchange names when someone tells you theirs pal," she said in annoyance. "Who are you and what's that accent?"

He removed a flask from the waistband of his pants and drank deeply, hissing when he removed his lips as the burn on his tongue worked its way down his throat.

"Ivan," he replied watching her out of the corner of his eye. "I am Russia."

In her tired state she'd figured he'd said 'Russian'. Must still be some water in her ears.

"Really?" she said looking at him with interest, fighting her best to keep herself up and awake. "Always wanted to see places like that. Never been outside of the South."

All too soon her eyelids began to droop and Ivan took the liberty of taking the mug from her fingers before they grew limp. He picked a leaf that had tangled its way into her hair as her head slumped forward. Finally she was lost in sleep, a true sleep that was more peaceful and less deathlike.

**XX**

He truly had tried to wake her. Why would he not? He was impatient to speak more with Amelia, if indeed that was her name. They had much to discuss.

As he shook her shoulder fruitlessly one last time he sighed and took the liberty of unwrapping the blanket from her shoulders. He was unable to keep his eyes averted as he helped her into the oversized shirt of his. At any rate he had seen almost everything there was to see when he'd tried to get her warm the other day. Even with dirt and filth clinging to her like a second skin she was beautiful but neither his eyes nor his hands lingered as the thoughts passed through his head.

He pulled an old shirt, and his heavy coat around her, lifting his bag over his shoulder and her curled up in his arms as he stepped onto the deck to depart from the ship and take his cut of their catch.

He would not be returning to the ship. Once he was home and rested it would be once again time to find a new occupation.

The other men looked glad that they would be rid of him he thought idly. Perhaps they were smart he thought with a quiet giggle as he stepped off the boat.

**XX**

**This pairing is keeping my muse very active and my need for angst demanded that I write something a bit dark and depressing with a light at the end of the tunnel. I will post warnings at the beginning of each chapter. There will definitely be sex, swearing, possible gore, depression, and thoughts of suicide. **

"жить,"=breathe, live

Дорогая моя=my dear


	2. Chapter 2

**So thanks for checking this out guys. I am very excited to try this out. I've never tried anything this dark before and I'm just really loving the writing process for this. **

**The only trigger I can think of is for some aggression and physical assault maybe. Thanks everyone and enjoy!**

Ch 2 New Orleans Part 2

Amelia's eyes cracked open, sunlight pouring down on her face, warming her. After she came from the water she had wondered if she would feel warm again in her entire life. Silly way to think. When you were going to live forever everything was temporary.

She tensed up a little when she realized she wasn't on the boat. This room was still on the small side but a little bigger than the cramped cabin on the boat she'd been dragged onto. The paint was a light blue, a little chipped near the window and ceiling. The floor was bare aside from a small knit rug at the doorway

The rest of the room was tidy, mostly because there was so little in it. A nightstand with a mirror and pitcher and basin on top. A small chair beside the window and a religious icon hanging up on the wall.

Maybe she'd been dropped her off with some sort of religious charity? She swallowed hard, trying to think without hyperventilating. After what she'd been through she wasn't sure she could stomach that.

To her left she finally saw the lamp and clock beside a tray that was covered up. She pulled of the cloth to find a glass of water and a plate with some bread and ham on it.

She took a piece of bread, slowly eating a bit of the crust. Her belly was growling but if she crammed herself full in the state she was in, she had a feeling she'd be sick.

The bread almost became lodged in her throat when the door opened. Her would be rescuer walked in briskly, rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

"Do not get crumbs in the bed," he said with a childlike smile before crossing the room to open his dresser in search of a clean shirt.

He finally felt a bit more human after a shave and a bath. The night had been long and sleepless but now in his small, humble room he could relax. Somewhat, he thought watching his guest out of the corner of his eyes. There was much to be discussed.

"You have been sleeping for three days," he explained conversationally, looking at her through the mirror. "The rest has improved you."

She was a mess but she looked alive at least. Her cheeks were flushed; the color that had been leeched from her within her deathlike sleep had returned in full.

"What year is it?" she asked suddenly with wide eyes as he tugged on a shirt. Holy shit what if she'd drifted in that river for months? Years?

"It is November 12, of 1925," he stated watching her visibly relax. "You are lucky. You could have drifted right into the Gulf Coast."

"That would'a been a real darn shame," she agreed as she slowly picked off her meal. So she hadn't lost much time. It had only been four days since that awful night when she'd been drowned.

"Nice clean place you got here. Boarding house?"

He inclined his head and took a seat at the end of his bed, his eyes bright and making her queasy.

"You are America," he said with a giggle as she watched him warily. He looked really excited about something and it made her nervous as hell.

"Yeah I'm an American. Born and raised," she said sitting up straighter. "What's it to you bub?"

She'd been through hell and back. The time for running scared for the hills was not now. She could probably knock him out cold even for as big as he was if need be. He was only a man. She was so much more, and getting her strength back by the minute.

"Нет," he replied shaking his head. "America is land of opportunity but not miracles. Women do not simply expire only to return to the land of the living. A human would have rotted away and died. But you…you are different."

"I'm not different. I'm just lucky is all," she insisted making to get up from the bed when he grabbed her wrist and halted her.

He smiled sweetly as he pulled her insistently closer on the rumpled sheets and she started to breathe harder. The strength in his hold was crushing and immovable.

"You are different. It is the reason you are panicking now," he said, in a sing song voice and at odds with the harsh hold he had on her. "You are not human."

"You're crazy!" she spat, her voice holding a note of hysteria as she tried to pull away. His hand tightened imperceptibly and would have brought her to her knees if she had been standing. Wide blue eyes stared at him, like a cornered animal. "You're the one who's not human!"

"I am Russia!" he said his accent heavy and rich, his eyes wild. "I am a country built on snow, death, and hardship. No matter how many times they beat me or tried to kill me I endured."

He pulled her captive hand in his and pressed it flat against his neck. There were so many scars, maybe hundreds of white lines that had at one point been red and angry she was sure. Her fingers felt the indentations and lines before they curled away from his skin.

"Let. Go. Of me!" she said regaining her wits and slapping his wrist hard. The sound of the sting echoed loudly as his hand was repelled. And just for good measure she shoved him hard enough that he would have fallen on his ass if he hadn't stumbled to his feet.

They were evenly matched. He might have been bigger and older but she was no delicate spring chicken. She'd kick his ass and leave him broken and bruised if he tried to mess with her again.

As riled up as she was now there was some undeniable pull to the man standing very still across from her. She hadn't noticed it before because she'd been to battered and out of it. But now there was definitely something there that couldn't be ignored.

Ivan took a few breaths to calm himself, overexcited and swelling with so many new emotions.

"You are America," he repeated his eyes unwavering as she blinked back tears. "I am Russia."

She felt her bottom lip tremble, her stomach clenching hard at his words. She'd dreamed of meeting someone who could understand and now she was terrified. This wasn't what she'd expected at all.

"I know what it is to be turned on by those whom you only wished to watch over and protect. To have mobs tear you down. When your strength fails you and they demand blood to satisfy their rage. We are the scapegoats of this world; chosen to suffer and carry on while God turns his back on us."

He sat down on the bed with a sad smile as he let his words sink in.

"If _she_ even exists," she said in a hushed voice. "I d-didn't think there was anyone else."

"There is no reason you would have known. Those of us who are wise find ways to conceal ourselves from mankind. We are hidden from harm but also from those like us."

Amelia tried to run her fingers through her hair as she processed everything but the rat's nests and tangles cut into her fingers.

"I need a bath," she declared crossing her arms.

He pouted, disappointed by her reaction. Perhaps he had been too eager he could see that. It was simply because he had been alone for so very long.

"It is down the hall to the right. Lock the door when you enter," he said offering her his own towel wet from his bath.

She nodded, wrinkling her nose a bit at the dampness and he almost laughed out loud. She looked like a drowned rat and yet still expected small luxuries that were not in his power to give.

"Thanks. Uh, do you prefer Ivan or Russia?" she inquired looking up at him.

"Ivan."

**XX**

She turned the water on hot, wanting more warmth to forget the cold as the taps whined loudly and the tub filled up. She shed the too large shirt on her body and gripped the small sliver of soap Ivan had given her to bathe with. A small cracked mirror on the wall confirmed that she looked like hell.

She gave herself over the tears she felt, shaking and sobbing as she lowered herself into the hot water. She cried so hard and long that she could taste the salt when she finally hiccupped and felt herself calming in the embrace of the warm liquid gently lapping at her skin.

Amelia Jones was no yellow livered coward but she was afraid. If she had been rescued up by humans things would have been simpler. She would have picked up the pieces left of her life by herself.

Now there was another element and one that she wasn't sure if she could trust or come to depend on.

While Ivan seemed receptive to the idea of keeping her around he was way too intense when she was still trying to get her bearings and recover.

But she thought beginning to scrub at the dirt and filth on her skin. She didn't want to be alone.

In her childhood even among her mama's people, the ancient tribes, she had been forced to watch everyone she knew and cared for die. The circle of life continued with new life brought forth and death following on its heels.

The Russian down the hall was eternal. If she allowed herself to stay near him it was going to change her entire world.

XX

**I think I mentioned twice now Amelia's mother. You can think of her as Mama! America. Similar to Mama! Greece, Mama! Egypt, and Grandpa! Rome from the comics. The character America is quite young but the land itself has been inhabited for so long that to me it just makes more sense that there was at one point a predecessor to Amelia.**

**I don't intend for the relationship between Ivan and Amelia to be abusive though I admit their interactions have been very iffy at this point. **

**As always reviews are highly appreciated my dears.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning for vague description of oral sex and prostitution my dears. **

Ch 3 New Orleans Part 3

When it became clear his guest was going to be held up in the bathroom for some time, Ivan decided to step out of his room for some nourishment. The evening meal served downstairs was a quiet affair that night in the dimly lit dining room. Most of the other boarders were workers who wanted a hot meal after a long day and most of the mouths were filled with food and not conversation.

When the meal concluded he smuggled a biscuit and a chicken leg wrapped in a cloth. He had almost made it to the stairs when he was confronted.

"Mr. Braginsky!"

"Mrs. Dubois," he greeted the small land lady pleasantly.

"It's not for me to say how a man lives his life as long as he's a Christian and keeps a quiet, clean residence," she began the woman, her face framed by gray wispy hair.

"Is there a problem?" he asked innocently as he tilted his head.

"Your 'guest,'" she began staring up at him unabashedly. "Has been making a racket for nearly an hour now. I've been hearing nothing but profanities coming from above my room."

"Ah," he said simply as he looked to the ceiling. "I am sorry. I will speak to her."

The old woman nodded with some disapproval in her gaze as he walked off. She knew men had needs but really bringing a woman of the night and keeping her well into the next day!

**XX**

"Applesauce!" Amelia shouted when she caught the comb on a particularly stubborn tangle.

She barely looked up when Ivan walked in but she did pause when he laid the napkin with food beside her.

"Thanks," she said watching him walk across the room to the bed and pull out a book from under the pillow.

"My downstairs neighbor informed me that my guest was being noisy and that she would appreciate less cursing in the future."

"She'd cuss to if she had more bayou on her head then hair and then had to comb the damn things out," she said grumpily from her spot beside the window. "Do people still pay money for hair?"

"I do not know," he confessed.

It was a step in the right direction Ivan reminded himself. He could be patient as he had been his entire life.

She pulled what looked like a long twig out of her hair, wrinkling her nose like a rabbit and he laughed quietly from behind his book.

"I'm gonna need to borrow some trousers," she informed him when he had been about to return to his novel. "Then I can make some quick cash."

"Amelia," he said closing his book as he tried to find the right words to say. It was awkward but he felt the need to push on so that she knew his thoughts.

"I have traveled alone for many years but I have always desired to change that. I do not know what your plans are but if it is possible I would like to be a part of them in some capacity. At least long enough to determine if our paths are compatible. We could help one another a great deal."

He was nervous she realized and it cracked her up a little. After he'd dragged her kicking and screaming out of the fish net he'd looked so big and imposing and now he looked almost like a big kid in his unease.

She unfolded the food offering near her and ripped into the drumstick with her teeth.

"Well now that gives me something to think about. I'll have to get back to you on all of that. I'm not going to be able to rest easy until I have a little money in my pocket."

Besides she thought picking the chicken bone clean. She didn't know quite what to make of Russia just yet.

**XX**

It took less time than it usually would have to run her errands in unfamiliar territory. With her knowledgeable Russian tour guide they found a shop willing to pay her a little for her golden tresses. It still wasn't much and she was looking to make more before the night was over.

She stared avidly at the bright lights and people of all walks stepping through the streets. They were all so beautiful in their own ways. And for now she felt peaceful and warm at the thought that they were all her people. Here in New Orleans there was a little less prejudice and a little bit more blending. One beautiful mosaic.

"This isn't what I expected," she said walking through the streets unhurriedly to their destination. "Kind of backwards in fact. I thought if I ever found a guy like you, well I'd be the one running the show. Taking you all of my favorite places. Traveling in style and giving you the grand tour."

"You are young," he replied as he took a nip from his hip flask. "Plenty of years to see your country. Even I have not seen all there is to see in my home. Much of my time was spent traveling."

"How'd you get your hands on that?" she whispered watching him swallow the liquor like it was water.

"America is a wonderful land of opportunity. If you have the cash to pay for it," he said with a smirk. "And New Orleans is not as dry as some parts of the United States."

"I figured I'd have to find a Juice Joint to mix something into my coca cola," she said with a grin. "You sure this is where everyone conducts their business?"

"Да," he replied briskly, a faint blush staining his cheek bones.

Amelia just rolled her eyes. There was nothing to be embarrassed about she reasoned as they came to a stop in front of some closed shop fronts with alleys nearby for dark deeds.

"Lots of people need sex. No shame in it," she chirped as he looked away in discomfort. "Heck if there weren't guys like you a girl like me would have a hard time catching a break when I'm new in town and low on my clams. Just imagine it; if you hadn't dragged me out of the swamp I could have mozied into town and ended up getting you off. We might have never known and just walked off after I gave you a world class blow job."

Ivan shuffled his feet, wishing she would just stop talking. Now that she was no longer afraid it seemed she was making up for lost time just chattering away about topics he had not ever expected to engage in with another country. Not politics, or plans for the future but the possibility that he could have propositioned her.

It was not the first time she'd done this and it showed. He should not be surprised. She looked so youthful, so bright and happy and so soon after her recent trauma. It was difficult not to be dazzled and believe she was as pure as a ray of sunshine.

But those smiles and pretty looks would have only taken her so far. Even pretty girls could go hungry and be homeless for periods of time he thought with a frown.

Amelia leaned back against the wall of the store front behind her and scoped out the street. Wearing his oversized clothing would have to do for now until she could find a shop in the morning. But for tonight it was perfect. She looked like a very, very young man. A runaway even. Exactly to the tastes of some of the cities amorous clientele looking for beauty and youth in their tricks.

"Now shoo. You're going to scare away my gentlemen callers," she said waving him off as she scampered down a little ways to look inconspicuous as she waited.

Ivan shook his head and lit a cigarette, ignoring the local sex workers. She was his concern tonight. He knew that she would be fine on her own and could break any man who tried to hurt her but he found himself compelled to remain. If she did not mind then he would linger.

He watched out of the corner of his eyes as she was approached by a gentleman in a white suit. She tilted her head up at him, smiling coquettishly as she said something and lifted her hand to play with his collar.

She had hooked her fish, pulling on his tie before pushing him back against the building behind them. Interesting approach Ivan thought as she slowly sank to her knees.

She liked to tease, taking her time as she nuzzled the man's crotch while he fisted his hands in her hair. The entire time she had been the one in control, selling herself then letting the man know how it was going to be as soon as the deal was made the Russian thought exhaling through his nose as he heard the john's moan from his spot.

"Vixen," Ivan whispered leaning back against the wall. Beneath the glow of the orange lights and dark sky the two figures were nearly obscured in the shadows, the heavy breathing and wet sounds drawing the eyes of passerbys to the dirty deed.

**XX**

"Come on it's almost morning anyway," Amelia whined as they walked. "What's it gonna matter if we stay out just a teensy bit longer?"

She didn't see why they couldn't sit and unwind a little over a friendly cup of coffee. After all she was the one who'd spent the better part of the night on her knees with the bitter taste of semen left on her tongue.

"It has been a long day," he said, wanting nothing more than to climb into his bed. A bed that he would be sharing for the foreseeable future.

"I'll buy," she said looking up at him hopefully. How could he refuse that?

He sighed and nodded blearily as she squealed and took his hand in hers as if they were the best of friends. In fact now that she did not seem afraid of him she had taken to being overfriendly and overly familiar around him.

"Can we go to Café du Monde?" she asked excitedly as he shook his head.

"Нет, we are nowhere near that street," he replied as she sulked. "Do not be so petulant. You will see all the sights and tourist attractions in time."

"Oh yeah? Are you going to show me all the good spots like last night?" she said when he led her across the street to an all night restaurant. "How long have you been in New Orleans for? How long are we gonna stay?

"I will show you what little of the city I have seen. Eighteen months. I do not have an answer to the last question," he replied nervously as they stepped inside the restaurant. He ordered their coffees and two crullers as Amelia watched him. "W-will you stay with me?"

The short time that they had been acquainted had not been very pleasant. He had no reason to believe that she would remain with him just because they were in similar predicaments. After all she had gotten by this long without long term companionship. Perhaps she could manage. He found the prospect of spending more time alone however bleak and empty.

"Well of course I will," she said taking her coffee cup and donut, walking out to the front terrace so she could eat outside and he had no choice but to follow her. The sun would be up soon. It was a new day for them to grow accustomed to one another.

Alone by herself in the bathtub earlier Amelia had already accepted her fate. She'd stick it out with the Russian for as long as she could stand it. If nothing else maybe they could search for others like them if they stuck together.

Both of them longed to be closer, to have something that was out of their grasp. At the moment the two of them were the best chance each of them had at finding something deeper to cling to.

He nodded to himself, relaxing a bit as he joined her at a table.

"I know we're strangers and who knows? Maybe you'll get sick of me or we'll make each other crazier."

She laughed as the sun rose. It warmed something he thought frozen long ago. Perhaps God did work in mysterious ways

"But I don't want to be alone right now. And I don't much feel like telling you about how I ended up in the swamp either," she said brightly while he sipped his coffee silently, content to let her chatter on. "Let's spend some time together and see what happens."

She watched him as she dunked her pastry into her coffee and was warmed by the rays of sunshine and soft expression on his face. To think she'd been so scared of him when they'd first met. He was alright really.

She wasn't entirely comfy around him but there was no need for things to always be so intense. Maybe there could be nice moments like this too.

**XX**

"So how does this work?" Amelia asked as soon as they returned to his room.

Ivan sat down on the bed and looked up at her with tired bloodshot eyes, stripping his shirt and pants off until he was left in his shorts.

"We share. Were you taught the concept?" he inquired with a bit of sarcasm as she rolled her eyes.

She kept his large shirt on as he turned on his side to face away from her and make room so she could climb into the bed. She let out a yawn as she mirrored him, lying on her side away from him as she tried to close her eyes and rest.

It was a long time in coming for both of them. Two people unused to sharing a bed or too distrusting to rest properly after their experiences.

**XX**

"Nennynggh..."

Ivan woke at the soft noise. He felt tired and cranky after a night spent with an unfamiliar body next to his. Years of mistreatment and suspicion had led him to sleeping alone. When it was necessary to fuck someone they were not brought home with him and he did not spend the night with anyone.

He huffed in annoyance as Amelia spoke quietly in her sleep. The price of companionship, he mused throwing back the blanket and scooting down to the end of the bed.

"Tryin'ta sleep," Amelia mumbled irritably when he got up.

"I must look for new job and find you clothes," Ivan said unapologetically as he poured some water from his pitcher to wash on his face, the cool liquid soothing as he continued to try and wake up.

He heard the heavy sound of her feet hitting the ground and her quick steps as she shuffled up to him, taking some of the water from the bowl to wash with a quiet groan.

He felt a small smile slip over his weary face as he used his damp fingers to brush his hair back. She met his eyes and offered him a brief wink before stretching her arms over her head. He did not need to look at his reflection to know that he was blushing.

"Not the worst place I ever slept but not much sleep," she said leisurely running her fingers through her short hair. "You'd think sleeping with the fishes would have kept me with all the rest I needed for weeks."

"Your body is healing. It needs everything in abundance," he replied as her stomach growled loudly and she grimaced.

"A man who speaks from experience," she said eyeing the scars on his neck briefly before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Time's a'wasting. We should come up with a plan."

"To what end?" he inquired raising a brow as he turned to face her with his arms crossed.

"Don't you want to find the other countries?" she said with a little excitement seeping into her voice. "I mean you came to America. This land is filled with immigrants. We could find someone else just like us if we looked."

"It would take time and money," he said arching a brow as he crossed his arms.

"Good thing time's on our side huh?" she replied drawing her knees up to her chest. "I mean we both know that's what we want isn't it? To find more of us?"

When he nodded slightly she grinned.

"Breakfast. Then you'll find a job and I'll buy some clothes. Maybe after that I'll find a job too. Something besides bringing men off. Not that I mind it but that kind of work can really run your stockings ragged."

**XX**

**So this part of the story is set in the twenties and I absolutely did so much research to make it seem authentic. Not. But I hope you all like it anyway. Reviews are much appreciated.**


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